


Detective Lynch

by smokesprite



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Protective Ronan, detective ronan, no romance yet, not exactly graphic violence but...Kidnapping, trying to be a detective noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokesprite/pseuds/smokesprite
Summary: Gansey is a detective, Ronan is his secretary, and Adam Parrish is missing.





	

Stare was a light word for the way Ronan was looking across the long, grey room; it was closer to glaring. His brother had decided to show up for lunch, and Ronan had decided to put in some overtime, and now it was a stalemate.

"This is it?" Declan asked, unimpressed. "You're doing the job of a secretary."

"I am a secretary.”

Declan cleared his throat. “And the girls in with Gansey? Are they clients?"

Ronan casually said, "Blue and Orla? No. They're consulting psychics."

He was careful not to notice how Declan’s face morphed into the expression Ronan himself had made when Gansey first pitched the idea. He just let himself enjoy it.

"Gansey..." Declan stopped. He'd been about to say something, perhaps been about to point out that hiring psychics for detective work was unprofessional. But after the first word he remembered that Gansey was the detective in question, and Gansey could be trusted. "Well, I hope he doesn't expect a judge to take that seriously "

"He uses them for leads, not for evidence," Ronan shrugged.

And only when he's really desperate.

Ronan didn't mention that he was the desperate one this time, that it was his case that had too many dead ends for standard detective work, and that it had been him who had subtly mentioned the Sargent girls in hopes Gansey would take it upon himself to call.

***

Ronan had a favorite garage for when his car kicked up trouble; more specifically, Ronan had a favorite mechanic: Adam Parrish.

The previous week, Ronan had dropped by the garage with something simple and requested Adam. One of the other mechanics had told him that Adam hadn’t been in for days, and would probably lose his job if he didn’t turn up soon. The garage hadn’t been concerned, but Adam picked up hours like a fiend; he never missed, never even called in sick.

Something was wrong.

Ronan asked around until his suspicions were aroused. First, he’d located Adam’s parents and paid them a visit. When they made it clear they could care less, Ronan hired himself.

He hadn't told Gansey that last part. Not lying; Ronan just let Gansey think he was taking care of the distraught family for a change. Some detective Gansey was, that that hadn't made him suspicious.

Though there was no love lost between Adam and his family, Ronan’s mind hadn't jumped to murder. Going through the motions, he checked Adam's home. It was so impersonal that had it not been for the spoiled food, Ronan wouldn’t know anyone lived there. He looked around town; Adam had no enemies.

The next time Ronan dropped by the shop, Adam was officially out of a job.

Ronan visited the elderly folks outside city limits whom Adam had done odd jobs for. No one had much to say, save for Jesse Dittley.

Ronan noted a number of pamphlets on the counter advertising psychics and cleansing services. Paranoid and twitchy, Dinklage had explained that since the old family curse had started up again, shouts and such coming up from the floorboards, he hadn’t contacted Adam, but he was sorry to hear there was trouble.

Ronan thanked Dittley for his time, briefly considered the possibility that Dittley had done it, then dismissed it as out of hand.

It was a far fetched and desperate last hope that the psychic girls would find something.

It was already paying off, just not in the way Ronan had hoped.

Blue was the kind of girl who was hard to startle. Tiny, she wore cool nonchalance the way she wore her eccentric wardrobe. She rather enjoyed not being shocked when people expected her to be.

"Adam’s missing?" She’d said, alarmed, and Ronan’s heart sank to his feet.

"Some psychic," he'd replied.

"You know Adam?" Gansey asked politely. Gansey had gone with Ronan to the shop a number of times and liked Adam immensely. He’d been quick to prioritize the case, tying up loose ends with previous clients and throwing himself into the Parrish investigation.

"Yeah," Blue said. "We used to work together."

“Oh!” Orla said, her mouth a perfect o. “I remember him. That quiet, intense cutie, right?” That was one description Ronan would be sure to pass that along if they found Adam. When they found Adam.

After that, there were a number of card readings which Ronan engaged in silently. The girls passed around items taken from Adam’s apartment. Orla insisted on candles and Blue rolled her eyes.

Ronan left the room, Declan showed up, and then Declan left.

***

“You know, I’ve always wanted a company road trip,” Gansey said.

He had.

Ronan refrained from pointing out they didn’t really have a company--just the two of them and some psychic girls.

He doubted Adam would’ve gone out this far. What reasons could he have? None that Ronan could find, and Ronan had looked. The alternative, of course, was that Adam hadn’t had a part in this at all. Maybe all they’d find was a body.

Still. Blue and Orla were convinced they would find Adam, which had Gansey convinced, which put Ronan very solidly in the front seat, head pressed against the window and breath fogging the glass.

Every half-hour, Gansey stopped the car. The girls unloaded supplies--divining, scrying, or just using their eyes to take in the surrounding fields.

“Adam’s your friend?” Blue asked Ronan at one point. “I didn’t think you were the type to have friends.”

“We’re all friends,” Gansey said.

“Yeah, but you’re Gansey,” Orla pointed out.

“Still,” Blue said, chewing her lip, still talking to Ronan. “Adam wasn’t the type to have friends either, so I guess it makes sense that you found each other.”

“I thought Adam was friendly.” Orla put in.

“Friendly, yeah, but he didn’t have friends,” Blue said.

“If you don’t have anything to say in present tense, then don’t say it.” Ronan said harshly and conversation ground to a halt.

Eventually, they got to a spot that the girls didn’t want to leave.

“This is gorgeous.” Blue said.

Ronan supposed it was, but it might also be Adam’s grave. Ronan didn’t think a forest with a dead Adam in it could be all that beautiful.

“There’s a path,” Gansey pointed out, after they’d poked around the field.

Orla, who pointed out her shoes were far from the hiking kind, volunteered to stay in the car. “If I start getting weird vibes, I’ll find the nearest phone and call the police.” Begrudgingly, though not ungratefully, Gansey gave her the keys.

Ronan said, “It might be best if you stayed in the car, too.”

“No,” Blue answered.

Ronan wanted to argue, but the last thin thread of hope held him back. They might need a psychic, the Sargent girls had gotten them this far, hadn’t they? If there was any courageous protecting to do, Gansey could play knight in shining armor. Or, Blue could save herself. Ronan hadn’t had a high opinion of her, hadn’t spent much time with her before today, but she’d proven she was tenacious at the least.

The incline grew steeper and their breaths came in huffs, and it only invigorated Ronan.

That was when they found the cars.

Two of them, parked side by side; one covered in rust and the other spotless. What was more, Ronan recognized one.

Barrington Whelk.

“Shit,” it wasn’t a curse, he was excited. He walked over to the car and studied it hood to trunk. He didn’t need to. He must have seen it at least a dozen times at the shop. Whelk was there as often as Ronan.

The thought that he might not have been the only one there for Adam was disconcerting, especially considering he hadn’t known it.

“You recognize it?” Gansey asked, about a million miles behind Ronan’s train of thought.

Ronan explained, then added, “but why?”

“One way to find out,” Gansey peered into the interior of Whelk’s car. It revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Ronan had the slightly more effective method of breaking into the car and rummaging around.

“We don’t have a warrant,” Gansey reminded him.

“We have probable cause.”

“We’re not cops.”

“We’re detectives,” Ronan said, “if we find something, it’ll be excused.”

“It’s illegal,” Gansey repeated. “Anything we find will be--”

“I don’t know if you noticed,” Ronan said, “but I’m not to worried about what will happen if we take this to court. All I care about is finding Adam.”

Whelk’s car revealed a half eaten bagel, several pornos, and a coupon to a pie shop a ways out of town. So, nothing that hadn’t been expected of a 40 year old man who lived alone.

Ronan studied the signs of distress when they popped open the trunk.

“Are those nail marks?” Blue sounded uneasy. Ronan thought they must be.

They broke into the older, rusted car off to the side, and this time Gansey didn’t argue. All they found was dust and an old photograph. Two boys--one was a teenage Whelk, and the other was a pale-haired smiling boy with his arm around Whelk’s shoulders.

“How much do you want to bet this is the owner of the car?”

“Not taking that bet,” Gansey said, chewing his lip and memorizing the faces.

“Where to now?” Blue asked, turning in circles.

“You’re the psychic,” Ronan said. “You tell me.” He sounded put off, but he was in a better mood than he’d been in for a while.

Blue stopped her spinning and Gansey knelt on the ground in the direction she was facing. “Footprints.”

There were small grooves every so often where Adam’s feet must have dragged. He pictured Adam, bound and desperate, trying to get free of Whelk.

Ronan went first, and he went fast.

The greenery on both sides blinded him, a sort of highway hypnosis. His agitation fueled him. He could feel Gansey’s struggle to keep up, and Blue’s inevitable falling behind. “We’re a team,” Gansey eventually called. “I recommend reserving strength, in case of a struggle.”

“You’re expecting a fight?”

“I think we’re about to confront a serial kidnapper, and possible murderer,” Gansey said, “I’d like to catch my breath before that happens.”

“Wait, and I mean it this time,” Blue huffed.

“What?” Ronan called back.

“You overshot,” she called. “Caves.”

***

Adam was meant for the summer sun, Ronan thought. The idea that he’d been stuck down in this darkness for over two weeks was...wrong.

They did not speak. There was no telling how far their voices would carry, and they needed the element of surprise over Whelk.

Gansey had had the foresight to bring a flashlight, and once the outside light faded, it was clear they wouldn’t go far without it. It was cramped, on both sides and up top. Ronan’s sharp breaths signaled dips in the ceiling; he should’ve let the man with the light lead but he was too close to fall back now.

When the sound of voices finally reached them, Ronan, paradoxically, froze.

Gansey stifled the light in his shirt. The filter of Gansey’s blue polo shirt threw the entire scene into eerie relief.

This was it. This had to be it. He walked toward the voices. When Gansey reached out and took hold of Ronan’s sleeve, Ronan turned around jumpy and ready for a fight. Gansey, an intense look of confusion on his face, mouthed listen.

“Blue Lily, Lily Blue,” a female voice was saying.

“I guess I like the repetition,” Adam. That was Adam.

“You guess?” The female responded, offended.

“The stanzas--”

“Enough about the stanzas.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted a critique.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like I’ll be able to write any of these down.”

“You have a good memory,” Adam said.

“It’s not the same.”

Whelk? Gansey mouthed.

Ronan shook his head. Not yet, but that didn’t mean Whelk wasn’t there.

Gansey turned the flashlight off.

Ronan inched around the corner. He peered into the dark space. There was nothing to see, it was completely dark, and he felt his way along the wall. He knew he was in the same room as Adam when the talking continued.

“What’s that line about Kings again?” Adam asked.

The woman sighed. “I’m sick of this poem.”

The two fell silent, and Ronan had no way of knowing who was where in the silence.

Until his hand fell on warm flesh.

Ronan was fairly certain it was the woman, and at her yelp he jerked away. She cursed so colorfully he had to take a moment from his disturbia to admire her creativity.

“Whelk,” Adam demanded from somewhere close in the darkness. Ronan had never heard such poison in Adam’s voice. In his distraction, the woman managed to land a kick on Ronan, and he cussed her out somewhat less colorfully than she was managing before saying, “Parrish?”

A beat of silence.

“Who the fuck are you,” the woman said at the same time Adam said, “Ronan?”

“There’s a light switch,” Adam said, “on the far wall, over by the entrance.”

Ronan didn’t go to the light switch, he made his way to Adam. Gansey flicked the light on first, a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was a crude electrical system, exposed wires taped up the cave wall. There was a desk in one corner filled with papers and books, and a number of white boards were propped against the wall.

“Jesus,” Gansey said, taking it all in.

Ronan only had eyes for Adam. He was thinner, not a good thing considering how slim Adam had been before his captivity. His eyes were wide and shadowed.

The woman cussed just to remind them she was there.

“I’m Detective Gansey, and this is my partner, Detective Lynch,” Gansey remembered his manners.

“About time you got here,” the woman sneered.

“How long have you been here,” Blue looked uneasy as she asked the question.

“Three weeks,” the woman enunciated.

Ronan noticed the fraying ropes on Adam’s hands. Judging by the rather large pile of mangled ropes in the corner, it was a hobby.

“We need to get out of here before Whelk gets back,” Adam said, standing up.

Blue assisted the woman while Gansey turned a sharp eye to the markings on the whiteboards. They looked like crazy lines and ancient symbols to Ronan, but by Gansey’s face they must have had some credence.

“You’ll have to carry Gwen,” Adam said.

“What?”

Gwen said in a tone Ronan often used himself, “It’s called ‘I almost got away but tripped on a stupid rock’.”

As he lifted Gwen up, Ronan wondered if he was going to have to pull Gansey away from the posters on the wall. “What was Whelk doing?”

“Some sort of ritual,” Gwen said. “But he’s a chicken who needs to check and recheck and double-re-check his equations before he’s willing to make a sacrifice so we ended up sitting here. Don’t think he’s killed anyone.”

“Actually,” Gansey said, “I think he has.”

“What, like he’s a satanist?” Ronan asked.

“No,” Gwen said, “that isn’t satanism, it’s--”

There was a click. Whelk stood in the mouth of the cavern, shiny gun pointed at Gansey.

For a moment, no one moved. The click echoed until there was just silence.

“Whelk,” Gansey greeted him cordially. As if Whelk hadn't just caught them in his madman murder den.

“What the hell are you doing here, Lynch?” Whelk said. “Not like some half assed street racer and his gussied up pals are going to ruin this for me.”

“Actually, we're detectives, and you're under arrest.” Ronan said.

“You're trying to tap into the ley line?” Gansey interrupted. He was nodding, still speaking calmly and level-headed. “That’s actually quite interesting.”

“What part of figuring out my plans makes you feel safer?” Whelk asked. “It's going to be one of you, and it's going to be tonight.”

***

Blue punched him.

She was short and it was a vicious uppercut. It was also a huge risk that sent a bullet flying toward Gansey.

“Ms. Sargent,” Gansey would’ve sounded scandalized were it not for the breathless fear in his voice. Then, he finished the job, taking Whelk down in a move straight out of his Thursday night self defence class. Gansey tried to get the gun, but Whelk cradled it to his chest.

“Run!” He told them.

Blue went first. Ronan passed by carrying Gwen, and the kick he dealt to Whelk’s face as he passed by was satisfying. Who needed self defense when you'd learned Irish dancing as a kid? He followed it up with a stomp on Whelk’s hand and a kick that sent the gun spinning.

On his way past, Adam grabbed a winded Gansey and together they hobbled at the end of the train.

“Where are we going, Blue?” Gansey’s flashlight cast long shadows on the walls. “This is not the way we took in.”

“I feel this is the best way out,” Blue said.

They struggled down the tunnels until they reached a wall.

“Dead end,” Ronan said. “Great.”

“No,” Gwen said excitedly. “I feel it too! There’s something on the other side. The bricks are strong but the mortar is weak.”

Ronan and Blue, the only ones not malnourished or limping, started kicking at the wall. Blue had some pretty impressive hiya sounds. Ronan for his part worked in frustrated silence, with the occasional cuss where he thought it would accent Blue’s shouts.

When they finally started breaking through, Blue whooped. That is, until they found themselves at the wrong end of a double barrel shotgun.

“Jesse,” Gwen said, a reprimand.

“Gwenllian?”

***

This was the second time in less than a week Ronan found himself sitting on Jesse Dittley’s couch.

“And when the curse started acting up again, I gave another call to Gwen. She'd gotten rid of the curse 17 years ago, I thought she'd get rid of it again, or at least put it to sleep.”

“It wasn't a curse though,” Gansey said. “It was people down in the tunnels.”

“The car in the woods must've been from when he killed the first time.”

“Wait,” Gwen narrowed her eyes. “I went missing before Adam, and you just didn’t mention that to the detective who came to you specifically?”

“I thought you’d bolted--you left a note!” Dittley defended himself.

Whopping sirens cut the argument short. Orla bounded out of the police car and onto the rocky driveway. She hobbled in her five inch heels, unsure of her footing but determined to get to the house.

The police, disbelieving of Orla, were shocked to find two kidnap victims, the town’s kookiest detective, and his street-racing secretary. They went down into the tunnels, but Whelk was long gone.

***

Gansey’s desk was cluttered with charts. Technically, they were evidence of a murder, but Gansey, with his eclectic range knowledge, was the only one who could make sense of them. He’d insisted he take on the investigation for Noah Czerny’s body and the police had relented.

Adam, for his part, helped immensely. If Gansey had liked him before, now he was Adam’s biggest fan. Ronan knew Adam was smart, but Ronan suspected his insistence on helping was more a result of Adam not wanting to be alone rather than interest in finding a body.

He wasn’t sleeping, not that Ronan blamed him, and he’d lost his job, although Ronan was convinced he could get it back. The one time Blue had tried to play therapist he’d admitted, “I feel like I’m being followed everywhere, but that’s normal. It’ll go away.”

Orla professed no interest in the case, “I make my money off of the living and let the dead rest in peace,” but Blue stayed at the office nearly as long as Adam did.

“Noah Czerny’s not at peace,” Blue argued, “he was sacrificed in some satanist--”

“--not satanist,” Gansey corrected automatically.

“-spiritual--”

“Not really,” Adam interrupted.

“--some weird old-guy ritual that only Gansey and Adam understand.”

“You know, I really don’t think the moon has anything to do with it,” Adam said. Blue was put out at being brushed to the side, especially since she professed herself an expert on the paranormal, but that was how things went these days. Adam and Gansey talked almost exclusively to each other, and only about Whelk’s notes.

“Finding Whelk might be the better lead to work on,” Ronan grumbled.

“The police have searched a large portion of the cave system,” Gansey reminded him, “and all of Whelk’s known whereabouts. They found nothing. It is likely Whelk went to ground wherever he stashed Noah Czerny.”

Ronan’s eyes were drawn to the chalkboard on the wall.

Gansey liked extravagant displays of his detective work, said the look and feel of it helped him think, so on the wall next to the Parrish case was a portion dedicated to the Czerny case--compliments of the police station archives.

Technically, this was police work. Gansey had no jurisdiction since no one had hired him. However, Jesse Dittley had stepped in and pointed out that although he had no family ties to Czerny, the body was likely on his property and he’d like to hire someone for that.

Since the police had closed the Czerny case almost two decades before, and it had already been made clear Gansey was the only one who understood the notes, they’d acquiesced. There had been no word from the Czerny family.

Excited chatter cut through his thoughts.

“Ley lines,” Adam said, shuffling around the papers on the desk. It sounded like they were on to something, and Ronan hoped they’d be going somewhere and doing something soon.

“But is that the one,” Gansey said thoughtfully, “it could be wider than we--”

“Worth checking out,” Ronan shot up out of his chair. “I’ll do it. You guys can do whatever-- come along, or keep doing your brainiac thing.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Adam said.

“Then come with.”

“But the other possible place is that old warehouse--”

“Monmouth manufacturing,” Gansey pinpointed it on a map of the city. “Groups of two. You and Ronan, me and Blue. That way you both have an armed expert with you.”

“Armed?” Blue asked.

“Expert?” Ronan asked.

“Let’s head out, gang.”

***

“I’m not saying you have to talk to me.” Ronan said. “I’m just saying you don’t have to hold it in until you go as crazy as Whelk.”

“That’s...nice of you.” Adam said.

“Well, yeah,” Ronan shrugged. “Getting kidnapped can mess a person up.”

“I was already messed up,” Adam said wryly.

Ronan didn’t say anything to that.

“Look,” Adam said, uncomfortably. “What you did, looking for me. That was...thanks.”

“Whatever.”

“It was...I mean, I appreciate it, but why?” Adam asked.

“”What do you mean, ‘why’?” Ronan thought he knew. Adam had serious confidence issues. And, he had no one--Ronan had become painfully aware of that in his investigation. “You were obviously missing. You’ve never missed a day of work in your life. What, did you think I was going to ignore that?” Ronan took a sharp turn.

“No, I just...”

“You ‘just’ what?”

“I didn’t expect anyone to care.”

“Because your family didn’t give two shits? Family aren’t the only people allowed to care.”

“No, because the only thing in my life for the past year has been work and a blank university application.” Adam said. “I...I don’t have anyone to notice--”

“Obviously you do.”

“You know what I meant,” Adam said, frustrated. “I meant friends.”

“Are we not friends?” Ronan asked.

“I’m your mechanic, Ronan,” Adam said, “don’t pretend like I’m anything more.”

“Fine,” Ronan jerked the car to a stop. “Fine. You’re just my mechanic. I don’t need my mechanic along on a professional investigation.”

“Ronan,” Adam sighed.

“I can understand why Gansey wanted you for the charts, but I don’t need a civilian along for this.”

“You invited me.”

“If you can’t understand why I took it upon myself to find you, then I can’t understand why you’d insist on coming along.”

“You invited me,” Adam repeated, harsher.

“And now I’m uninviting you. What are you going to do about it?”

Adam’s jaw tensed. Ronan thought he was going to argue, but instead he got out of the car. He didn’t even slam the door behind him.

Ronan took off.

After a few minutes of driving alone, Ronan began to cool..

He hadn’t been able to make his point, and leaving Adam on the side of the road was a jerk move. Maybe a couple of minutes walking alone would be blatantly symbolic enough that the message would make it through Adam’s thick skull.

A car came up behind Ronan, a rarity on such a back road. He kept trying to pass, and Ronan kept blocking. He got honked at a few times, and Ronan thought that if he hadn’t been busy this was the kind of driver he’d like to race.

The game got old and, making a sharp u-turn, Ronan headed back down the road.

He still wasn’t completely sure he wanted Adam along, didn’t think it was strictly legal or moral to bring an ex-kidnapping victim along to find a dead body. Then again, when had Ronan cared about either? Besides, Gansey had condoned it.

Ronan kept waiting to see Adam.

Maybe he’d gone off road, or hitchhiked. Ronan didn’t think that was likely. Not after how jumpy he’d been all week. That wasn’t a risk he--I just feel like someone’s following me.

Shit.

“Shit.”

Shit.

Ronan jerked another sharp u-turn and pressed all the way down on the gas pedal.

Whelk had Adam.

***

The church was old and decrepit, and it would be a terrible place to die.

By the side of the building, half-crashed into a bush, was the car from earlier.

Ronan’s engine had ruined the element of surprise for him, so he pulled his gun and ran up to the doorway. He almost tripped over a skeleton, and Ronan would’ve bet anything it had been there for seventeen years, being slowly swallowed by the Earth.

He did not pause, however. He wasn’t here for the body. Gansey could take care of Czerny, Ronan was here for Adam. The wooden door of the church had long since rotted away, probably before even Czerny’s time, leaving a gaping hole in the stone. Ducking, Ronan looked in.

He could see Adam, tied again, back to him.

Ronan saw the flashing of the knife, and had only a moment to think. He slammed into Whelk a moment after the bullet did, and Whelk cried out as he went down.

Adam kicked away from both of them, reaching for the knife with his tied hands.

Whelk’s leg had been shattered by the bullet, and he writhed on the ground, probably concussed after the tackle Ronan had given him. Ronan flipped him over and roughly handcuffed him.

It was over. A sudden, explosive end to the ordeal, and it was finally over.

Adam stood, wrists red and tear tracks running down his cheeks, and he was alive.

***

17 years; that was a long time for a body to not be found. Whelk hadn’t even hidden it. Ronan, having worked with the city’s police before, had never been confident in their abilities. Now he was downright disappointed.

Not that they would know.

Gansey was dealing with the police--in fact, Ronan had strict orders to only interact with them if it was inescapable. That was fine by Ronan. He spent most of his time with Adam, anyways. His car was having mysterious engine problems that only a certain mechanic could fix.

It was driving Adam crazy.

Adam tossed his wrench down and finally said, exasperated. “I don’t need a bodyguard. I only had one psycho-maniac after me and you shot him, remember?”

“Bodyguard,” Ronan repeated, almost a murmur.

Adam fixed him with a shrewd look. “You want me to call you a friend?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Fine. I don’t need my friends to hang around me.”

“So you admit it?”

“Yes.”

“About time. But you’re new to the game, and leaving you alone is not how this works.”

“Blue’s my friend, she doesn’t hang around me.”

“Ex-coworkers who you haven’t seen in a year don’t count as friends. Try again.”

“I saw saw her yesterday,” Adam rolled his eyes, “because we are friends. She says she doesn’t care how much tuition is, I still need a social life.”

Ronan accepted that and shrugged. “We all express affection in different ways.”

Adam picked up the wrench, “Oh, come on--”

“Just try and get rid of me, Parrish.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like a fic like this has definitely been written before, but I enjoyed writing it, so here you go.  
> Also, all my italics got unitalicized. I'll fix it someday.


End file.
